


Dragon Age Origins + Dragon Age Awakening Short Fics

by earthy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, I'm not sure why my Tabris ended up not liking her so much, also I'm really sorry Oghren, for the record I love Morrigan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthy/pseuds/earthy
Summary: "I've never met anyone who could be that drunk that much of the time," Alistair says with something like awe."And still swing an axe without lopping his own head off," she reminds him."Is that why you brought him with us?""To keep him from drunkenly cutting off his own head? Of course not. I just wanted to be around to see it."





	1. A Little Light Reading

**Author's Note:**

> These short fics found their way into existence during my most recent playthroughs of DAO and Awakening. They take place in between various game events, and I've tried to put them into some sort of chronological order (though I know that varies depending on the player). There are still some gaps that I might go back and fill in later, but for now, these can be taken more or less separately.
> 
> ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE: The Tabris origin is pretty brutal and includes elements of rape and violence. I don't linger on any of that, but I do make references to it where it seems relevant.
> 
> There will also be sets of DA2 and DAI short fics that'll go up as soon as I finish those playthroughs. Please try to contain your excitement. ;P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, don’t tell anyone, but--sometimes I like to read about, um, magic and magical artifacts. Only I can't do it when Morrigan's around, of course, so--"
> 
> "Why not?"
> 
> "Well. She'd think I'm an idiot, wouldn't she? Say something annoying about how stupid I am. Too stupid to understand this stuff."
> 
> "You're not stupid, Alistair."
> 
> He blinked, flushed slightly, and turned away. "Right. I know that."

She'd spent a little time in the alienage reading and writing, but mostly it hadn't seemed particularly important, what with the whole trying not to die due to poverty or pesky humans (or both). Even so, she'd always liked it more than she'd ever let on. She made a show of heaving a sigh whenever her father sat her and Shianni and Soris down to teach them, but she'd also learned much more quickly than either of them, and she'd devoured her father's three books over and over again.

So when she was traveling Ferelden with a ragtag group of misfits who were supposed to be saving the world, she'd loved coming across things like the Circle library or the collection at the Arl of Denerim's estate. There hadn't been much time for reading, of course; but she'd forgone most of a night or two just to try out the books in relative peace.

Of course Alistair caught her at it.

Arl Eamon, whom Kal disliked on principle (it _might_ have had something to do with him allowing his wife to abuse his adopted son--not that she'd ever tell anyone that), had brought them to his estate in Denerim. There was a whole library, and while Kal knew it was more or less at her disposal, she'd waited until the middle of the night to creep back down through the hallways and into the room.

The trouble was that she wasn't very good at reading. She had to use her finger to follow the lines, and she read very slowly. It was the sort of thing she knew the others would make fun of (Morrigan)--or worse, pity her for (Leiliana).

Kal didn't want either of those things. She just wanted to be left alone to read.

Being startled by the human she was secretly in love with wasn't particularly conducive to that.

"Can't sleep?"

It was a testament to how focused she was on making out the words that she didn't even hear him come up to her. She reached for the dagger that wasn't there, then threw him an equivalent daggery look when she realized what was going on.

He held up his hands but didn't back away. In fact, he was grinning, which rather ruined his apparent contrition. "Did I really just sneak up on you? Really?"

When her look didn't change, he shook his head and actually did back away. "Right, sorry. I'll just leave you be, shall I? Maker knows I hate it when someone interrupts me when I'm reading."

She tried to go back to her book, but now she was aware he was in the room, and--browsing the shelves, apparently?

"What are you looking for?"

"Oh--er--I just thought--" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Okay, don’t tell anyone, but--sometimes I like to read about, um, magic and magical artifacts. Only I can't do it when Morrigan's around, of course, so--"

"Why not?"

"Well. She'd think I'm an idiot, wouldn't she? Say something annoying about how stupid I am. Too stupid to understand this stuff."

"You're not stupid, Alistair."

He blinked, flushed slightly, and turned away. "Right. I know that."

(She hated that he was like this--so clearly unused to anyone saying anything nice about him, so startled when someone did something kind for him, like remembering what he'd said about his mother's locket. She'd hated the alienage, hated that life, but she couldn't deny that she'd been loved, if not understood, and that was something he'd never really had except maybe for Duncan, and Duncan was--)

"I can't read," she blurted out. "I mean, I _can_. But not well. We never had a school in the alienage, so….I thought if I came here in the middle of the night I could read something really slowly and...not have to worry about what the others might think."

"Oh." He nodded at the book in her hands. "Did you...find something good?"

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't this. She held up the book so he could see the cover.

Which made him laugh. "And _does_ it have griffons in it?"

"And how." The corners of her mouth twitched. "I'm going to the Anderfels as soon as this Blight business is over. Even if there really aren't any griffons left, I'm still getting a feather."

"Never mind the Blight. The real evil in this world is that there aren't griffons anymore. Someone should do something about that. Very important Grey Warden responsibility, bringing the griffons back."

"Absolutely."

"I might go with you to the Anderfels. I mean. Assuming I'm invited."

"Of course you're invited."

They looked at each other for a moment longer than was necessary before he turned back to the bookshelf and she turned back to her reading. Sort of. She wasn't really reading anymore.

"Well," he said after a bit. She looked up to see he had a book in his hand, something about runecrafting (assuming she was reading it right). "I'll just--go back to my room, then. Let you get back to your book."

She almost let him go, but--"You could stay here and read. If you want to." When he hesitated, she added, "Wouldn't want you to run into Morrigan in the hall. I'm fairly certain she sleeps, but you never know."

He didn't quite shudder, but it was a close call. "Maybe I will stay. If that's all right?"

"Wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't." She went back to her book--actually trying to read this time, although of course it was slow going, and the pictures didn't help much. She was also a bit distracted listening to the sound of him coming back over and sitting down next to her--close, but at a respectable distance.

They didn't talk anymore that evening, but Kal decided it was...pleasant reading with someone else around. Maybe a particular someone. Who didn't make a single comment about how slowly she read.

And if she eventually fell asleep next to him and woke up the next morning covered with a blanket and with a small stack of books about the Grey Wardens next to her, almost like someone had specifically pulled them out for her, well. These things happened sometimes.


	2. Previously Engaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can feel that he wants to ask, like it's a force he's barely holding back. That he's even trying at all both irritates and impresses her. He'd be polite even to a darkspawn trying to take his head off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there are folks reading this who are not familiar with the Tabris origin: this one has oblique references to violence and rape.

She can feel that he wants to ask, like it's a force he's barely holding back. That he's even trying at all both irritates and impresses her. He'd be polite even to a darkspawn trying to take his head off. It's something she loves--and hates--about him.

"So." 

He's sitting across the fire from her, ostensibly cleaning his armor, which he's looking very intently at just now. Not-quite-templars take their armor cleaning very seriously, she's learned. Especially when it can be used as an excuse to not look at someone while asking prying questions.

"You were engaged."

She doesn't say anything at first, focusing on sharpening her daggers instead (two can play at this game). But after awhile, since she knows he wants an answer, she gives him one. "Yes."

"You said it...didn't end well."

(She sees all the blood, hears the terrified wimpering of the other girls, the grating noise of the guards laughing, all of it jumbled together in the wrong time and in the wrong place--her father's face, kind eyes laughing at her when she says she doesn't want to get married, so like your mother, everything will be fine, what other choice do we have? The arl's son leering at her, the dead look in Shianni's eyes afterward, Nelaros in a pool of his own blood, this person she barely knew and didn't want to, but she certainly didn't want him dead. And Duncan arriving at just the right time to get her out of it, only there was no convenient Grey Warden for the rest of them, was there? Just slavers and sickness and a massacre of demons at the orphanage and Morrigan asking why they choose to live in such squalor, as if they had a choice, as if anyone cares whether they live or die--they're just animals to be put down when they get out of hand, like Howe said--)

"Kallian?" He's looking up at her now, all pretense gone. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. You don't have to--"

"I didn't want to," she tells him, barely aware that the words are slipping past her lips. "Get married, I mean. My father arranged it. It was...expected of me. I told them I didn't want to, but what I didn't want didn't matter."

He doesn't say anything, but she knows it's something he's familiar with--someone else deciding your fate while you stand around feeling trapped.

"Nelaros was nice, I suppose. I wouldn't have made him happy, but that didn't mean he deserved--" She swallows and hates herself for being this weak after all this time. "When the arl's son took us--took the women--he and Soris came after us." (Stupid Soris, finally growing a backbone.) "The guards had already--Shianni was--and they killed another girl. And then they killed Nelaros. Soris and I fought our way out, and then Duncan conscripted me." She laughs humorlessly. "That turned out well for me, didn't it? Not so well for the rest of the alienage."

He looks at her for a moment longer, face surprisingly unreadable. Then he sets the breastplate down, gets to his feet, and clears his throat. "Can I...come over there?"

It's a ridiculous request, and she wants to laugh, but she can't trust herself to speak. She nods once, curtly.

He comes around and sits down next to her on the log, close but not touching. He stares silently into the fire for a bit while she remembers she still has her daggers and whetstone in her hands. Since it's obvious she's not going to get anything done on them, she sets them down next to her feet and just tries to breathe through the tightness in her chest.

"You're the bravest person I know," he says quietly, mostly to the fire.

She does laugh then, trying to ignore the hitch in her voice. "That's rid--"

"I mean it." He looks up at her with that earnest face thing, and it stops her in her tracks. "All that, and you still...." He scratches his head awkwardly. "I want to, I don't know, say something that will make it better. But this isn't the kind of thing you can make better just by saying something clever, is it?"

"No."

There's another silence between them. Then: "Is it okay if--can I hug you?"

(Her insides are going to dissolve, thanks to this stupid, kind-hearted oaf of a human, she can feel the tears pricking at her eyes--weak, so weak--but he doesn't seem to care about that, he calls her rage _bravery_ , as if anything she does or says could compare to the impossible way he's faced everything and stayed kind and funny and _good_ , while she's become bitter and standoffish and all the things he isn't, and yet somehow he still--)

She hates that the frustrated tears start falling before she can hide them. She hates that a small sob escapes her as she throws herself at him and holds on tightly. She hates that as soon as his arms go around her--without hesitation, but gently, like he expects her to pull away at any moment--she starts really crying, the ugly kind she never let herself cry when she had to leave the alienage the first time and thought she'd never come back.

He doesn't say anything, just holds her and lets her cry. 

Later she'll realize he positioned himself with his back to the others, so they couldn't see her. She'll overhear Leliana commenting (slightly too loudly, as if to hide a particular noise) how nice it is to have a night at camp and away from the bustle of town. She'll notice Zevran and Morrigan agreeing that doing away with the slavers really was the best course of action (while Morrigan meets her eyes in a sort of apology, adding that perhaps the elves of the alienage really don't have much choice in their lot in life).

Alistair won't _say_ he had anything to do with any of this, of course. But she'll know. And he'll know she knows, and then probably he'll say something not-terribly-subtle about it, and she'll punch him in the arm, and he'll complain even while he's grinning at her. And eventually the tightness in her chest when she thinks of the alienage will lessen, and she'll remember the good times rather than just the horrible ones. And it will prepare her for what's coming next.


	3. Deep Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Avernus was doing that research, right? I mean. Not that I condone killing Wardens for blood magic experiments, but. Uh. There's Weisshaupt, too. If anyone knows about the Calling, they will. We just have to get rid of this archdemon, stop the Blight, and save the world first. No big deal."

"What was it like?" he asks.

She knows what he means, but she doesn't want to answer. (She isn't supposed to care.) She doesn't want to think about it, now that she knows what will happen to them. How they'll end up back down there someday, the poison in their blood singing and probably making them as addled as Ruck (not caring), forced to fight darkspawn until they die.

Everyone keeps saying it's a heroic way to go. Sounds stupid if you ask her: dying mad and alone deep in a maze of caves, dark and dank and miles away from the bustle of a city or the small patches of green and sunlight, even in the alienage. No bits of sky coming through the thatched roof. No muffled laughter from the children outside playing in the mud. No wall to climb, getting splinters in her feet, trying to see over the top into the world that doesn't really exist, where humans are merchants and nobles and have fine clothes and only come into the alienage to take the women, to do what they did to Shianni--

"Kal?" He's looking at her a bit funny, the way he does when he's worried and confused but isn't sure what to say to make it better, and he's afraid anything he does say will just make it worse. 

(Why does she know this? Why did she let herself fall for him? Stupid, it'll just end with them in those caverns, covered in darkspawn blood and hacking their way to a so-called heroic end, like somehow being mauled to death by disgusting creatures is supposed to make up for the being dead part. Maybe they'll get statues, wouldn't that be nice, totally worth dying young and horribly. 

And what if one of them goes before the other? What if he hears the Calling before she does? Because that's even worse, isn't it? To have had whatever this is, only to know that it all ends with her alone, probably having screwed everything up again because that's what she does?

 _She wasn't supposed to care._ )

"Hey." He touches her hand. She's irrationally glad he's not wearing armor so she can feel his skin on hers, warm and calloused. "Was it that bad?"

"It was...." She struggles to find the words to describe the smell, the darkness, the sound of the darkspawn’s grunts in the distance. And that's not even counting the spiders. Ugh. "Bad," she finishes lamely.

"Well, at least you brought us back a new friend."

They look over at Oghren, who is lurching toward his tent in a drunken stupor, yelling something at Shale, who looks even more unimpressed than usual. Oghren sort of makes it into the tent--if you count falling flat on his face half way in and half way out. And then starting to snore loudly.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"I've never met anyone who could be _that_ drunk _that_ much of the time," Alistair says with something like awe.

"And still swing an axe without lopping his own head off," she reminds him.

"Is that why you brought him with us?"

"To keep him from drunkenly cutting off his own head? Of course not. I just wanted to be around to see it."

She makes the mistake of looking at him then, and as soon as their eyes meet, they dissolve into giggles.

(She never used to laugh this much before she met him.)

"Listen, Kal," he says after a while. "Whatever you saw down there, you can tell me. Or, I mean, not, if you'd rather not. I just mean--you don't have to...be alone with it, I guess, is what I'm saying. I think. With everything that's happening, going into the Deep Roads just seems like a lot to have on your plate, especially with, you know, the Grey Warden stuff, and you shouldn't feel like you have to--I mean, I don't want to pry, but--"

It's a good thing they're sitting down; otherwise it wouldn't be so easy (it's too easy) to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck.

(It's weak, it's stupid, but he's warm, and he's instantly holding her just the way she didn't know she needed, and she should really do this more often. She's allowed now, isn't she?)

"I should have been with you," he says quietly into her hair. 

"I...don't know if that would have been better," she admits. "I'd just think about it even more."

She can feel him frowning. "Think about what?"

(Don't look at him, don't say--)

"The Deep Roads. The darkspawn. That...that'll be us someday."

He doesn't say anything, but his arms tighten around her a little bit. He probably knows some Wardens who heard the Calling. Knew. Watched them leave and never come back. Knew exactly where they were going and why. Knew Duncan had already started talking about going himself.

(It was easier when she didn't care. When humans were more danger than anything else, something to be avoided. And then they were the enemy, the ones she'd killed in a fury after Shianni, the ones who'd made her give up her entire life, not that she'd wanted it: arranged marriage, starving more often than not, living walled off from the rest of the city. But it was all she knew. 

Now she knows too many humans worth knowing--fell in love with one, damn it--and there are things to lose. People to lose. She can't go back to not caring about any of it. Especially after seeing the Deep Roads.)

"I wish I could say it won't happen, but I don't want to lie to you," he tells her. "And with the Blight...well. We may not even make it that far, frankly. That's, uh, not reassuring, I know."

He pulls away just enough to gently tilt her face up to meet his (earnest, stupid, lovely) eyes. "I can promise you this, Kal: Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together, okay? You won't have to face this archdemon alone, and after that, we'll...do something about it. Avernus was doing that research, right? I mean. Not that I condone killing Wardens for blood magic experiments, but. Uh. There's Weisshaupt, too. If anyone knows about the Calling, they will. We just have to get rid of this archdemon, stop the Blight, and save the world first. No big deal."

She has to kiss him then, of course. It doesn't solve anything, but it does make the Deep Roads seem further away--at least for now.


	4. The Man Who Would Be King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He excused himself from dinner early, which is how she knows for sure that it's bothering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there an appropriate tag/warning for "sexy tiemz probably would've happened except plot"? *cough*

He keeps making innocuous comments about the dining room whenever she passes him in Arl Eamon's study--not anything important, not so near the arl who let his wife banish his adopted son to the pig sty (why did they help her again?), so eventually Kal gives up and waits until she's able to sneak into his room later that evening. 

He excused himself from dinner early, which is how she knows for sure that it's bothering him. As if she couldn't tell already.

He gives a startled yelp and a string of quite imaginative curses when he finally realizes she's sitting there in a darkened corner. (Still got it. Wait, no, she won't think that--makes her sound like she's been spending too much time with Oghren. But. It's not wrong.)

"Hello," she says, grinning.

"Maker's breath, can't you use the door?"

"I did. You didn't notice."

"Doing it from stealth doesn't count. Normal people knock, in case you've forgotten."

She gets to her feet, crosses the room to him, and then stands there like an idiot, not entirely sure how to begin. "It upsets you," she says at last.

He smiles crookedly at her. "What, you sneaking into my room? Not really."

"No. You know what I mean."

The smile slips off his face (she instantly misses it). He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's just--people have been making decisions for me my entire life. This isn't any different, really. But...."

"It _is_ different. If you're going to be king."

"If?" He laughs (it's hollow, dull, hateful--she never wants to hear it again). "Arl Eamon has his mind made up, apparently. And he's nothing if not stubborn."

"There's Anora," she reminds him.

He snorts. "Yes, Cailin's wife, the one who had us traipsing around enemy territory and then did absolutely nothing to keep us from getting thrown into prison. The one who sounds ready to sell us out as soon as we come out against her--that Anora, you mean? Which reminds me, incidentally--I still don't understand why you surrendered so quickly. Or at all."

Kal shrugs. "I don't trust her. Or her so-called maid. I needed to see what she would do. And I knew we'd have no trouble getting out of a prison. Or anywhere they tried to lock us up."

"Still. It's a bit conniving, isn't it? Being willing to sacrifice the people who put themselves in danger on your behalf?"

He has such a good heart, it's no wonder Eamon wanted to keep him out of court. It would destroy him. She wants to keep him out of court, too--even though she knows he would be strong and loyal and good in a way Anora could never be--in a way Cailin was too dim-witted to be. 

(He's a good person, and she doesn't deserve to be with him, and she knows it's stupid to still think that after all this time, but it gnaws at her whenever she looks at him, knowing he'd give everything up, including her, including his own life, if it meant ending this Blight. If Eamon tells him he has be king, he'll do it, even though he so very obviously doesn't want to, even though it would change him in ways she doesn't want to think about. 

He'd be a good king, but a miserable one.

And he'd leave her.

This is why she wasn't supposed to care. But it's too late now.)

"Anora did...the sort of thing a noble would do. A queen."

"You think she should be queen."

"She _is_ queen, Alistair."

"No, I mean--"

"I know what you mean."

They're silent for awhile, and Kal hesitates far too long before reaching out to take his hand in both of hers.

"What do you think I should do?" he asks quietly, looking at their joined hands.

(Stay with me.) "I think...you've spent a lot of time letting other people tell you want you should do. Maybe you should decide for yourself." It comes out harsher than she intended, but she supposes it's better than pleading or ordering or--Maker help her--bursting into tears. "What do _you_ want?"

"I...don't know. I guess...I want to do what's best for Ferelden. I want to end this Blight. I want to--Maker, this is going to sound stupid, but--I want to make Duncan proud of me." He looks up at her with an expression on his face that makes her forget how to breathe. "I want you."

She keeps expecting that at some point she'll stop acting like an idiot about it, but obviously today is not that day. When she touches his cheek, and he leans into a moment before bending down to kiss her, it still sends a jolt through her body. He puts his arms around her, and her knees go weak, for Maker's sake. His bed is right there, they could--but--

"Alistair," she says against his mouth. "Morrigan asked me to come see her--I should--"

"Whatever Morrigan has to say can't be nearly as interesting as this."

"Definitely not." She grins and kisses him again, briefly, then slips out of his arms. "It also won't take long."

He clears his throat and sits down on a chair next to the bed (nearly missing it, she notices). "Right, well." He picks up a book from the bedside table, holding it upside down and in front of his face so that only his flushed ears are visible on either said. "You know where to find me."

She chokes down a laugh (and everything else they talked about--later, always later--or not at all, that's good, too) and goes to see what Morrigan wants.


	5. Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't want to admit it, but Anders makes her laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to Awakening. My tentative headcanon for this time is that while Kal was doing the Warden Commander thing, Alistair and whatever remaining Wardens could be rounded up were sent to Weisshaupt to train and regroup.

She doesn't want to admit it, but Anders makes her laugh.

She's under the impression that she's supposed to be Extremely Serious now, and it's hard to argue with that, when she had to fight her way through darkspawn just to get here, stepping over corpses and trying not to think about the Grey Wardens who were here first, now all dead along with most of the staff and accompanying soldiers.

There are plenty of things to be serious about.

And still. 

She tries not to let it show, particularly when she overhears Anders teasing Nathaniel about something. Nathaniel, at least, can more or less keep up. Oghren is another matter entirely. Kal doesn't feel bad for him, precisely, but she knows--and she knows Oghren knows--that beating out Anders's tongue is not a skill Oghren has.

That Anders makes her laugh only adds to her worry on the few occasions when he's serious.

Kal hasn't known many mages--Wynne and Morrigan, really, are the only ones. Wynne was always resigned or even happy to have been in the Circle. And Morrigan, of course, lived in the Wilds and never had to deal with the Circle at all, except to make comments about it during that whole fiasco with Uldred.

So Kal writes Alistair (missing him terribly): _Is the Circle as bad as Anders says it is? Would they lock up a mage for an entire year in solitary? Would the templars brand someone a maleficar even if they weren't, just so they could be rid of them?_

While she waits for an answer, she watches Anders and wonders. He flirts with the arling staff (both the men and women, she notices), plays with the kitten she gave him, heals skinned knees and cuts at all hours without being asked (and without saying anything about it). When he joins her and the others for a mission, he's always cheerful and sarcastic, acting as if he hasn't got a care in the world. Sometimes, though, when he doesn't know she's watching, she sees his shoulders slump, and he gets a far away look in his eyes.

She can't help but wonder if he's missing someone, too.

The letter from Alistair comes as quickly as can be expected, given that he was in Weisshaupt the last she knew (she'd hoped Mistress Woolsey would have heard something, but of course Woolsey dashed her hopes by saying she's never even been to Weisshaupt). Anyhow, the letter comes, and Kal finds an abandoned corner to read it.

_Maker, I was glad to get your letter,_ he writes. _The Anderfels weather is brutal--almost as brutal as the training the First Warden is putting us through. Presumably this will make it easier for us to kill more darkspawn--if it doesn't kill us first. Three Orlesians have already fainted dead away from sheer exhaustion._

_I'm not entirely sure what to tell you about your mage friend,_ he continues. _You know I was never fully a templar. We did visit the Fereldan Circle a few times, and it seemed, well, not as bad as it was when Uldred was mucking about, but not particularly pleasant, either. The templars kept a wary eye on everything at all times, and while the mages acted like they didn't care, it was obvious they did. It's not too hard to imagine there were abuses committed on both sides. If your friend seems angry or sad about his experiences, I'm sure he has every right._

_(You said he was funny--funnier than me? I need to know what I'm up against, Kal. Don't hold out on me.)_

_I'm glad I never had to be a templar, frankly. Duncan saved me in more ways than one._

_Anyway, I won't tell you to stay safe because I know how impossible that is in our line of work. So just make sure to watch your back, all right? Since I'm not there to do it for you._

_I love you._

"Letter from your lover?"

Kal starts and unsheathes her dagger before she's even thought about it. Anders is standing off to one side, amused and nervous in about equal measure. "Wow, successfully sneaking up on the Commander? That's got to earn me some sort of medal, right?"

"It's Kallian," she says, putting the dagger away. "And yes. About the letter, I mean."

He grins a bit wider. "What, really? There were rumors, of course--that the Hero of Ferelden had a torrid love affair while in the midst of saving the world--but I always that was just about telling a good story. Or that your lover died heroically and tragically, probably in the final battle."

"There's nothing heroic about dying, Anders."

"Well. I suppose it depends on how you do it, right?"

"No." She fixes him with a hard gaze. "If you're dead, you're dead. And that leaves other people to clean up your messes."

"Hmm." He sits down next to her, chin resting on his knees and hands wrapping around his legs. "What does he say?"

Kal raises an eyebrow. "Why do you assume it's a he?"

"Handwriting. Uh. Not that I read any of it! I just saw it. Briefly. Over your shoulder."

Kal looks down at the letter in her hands, smooths out a tiny crease, and wonders how soon she can read it again without seeming like a total sap. "I asked about you, actually," she says.

"Me? I think I'm flattered. Wait. What for?" Anders frowns. "And why would he know anything about me?"

"He was a templar. Sort of. Almost a templar. I just wondered if the Circle was as bad as you say it is."

"You don't believe me?" His voice turns hard the way it sometimes does when he's not watching it too closely, and the flippant mask drops off. She remembers it from not long after they first met, when she invoked the Rite of Conscription in front of that smug templar. The moment before, she could tell he'd assumed he was done for, that no one would ever believe he hadn't killed those templars, that he was headed back to the Circle he hates because no one ever believes a mage.

"I _do_ believe you," she tells him. "I'd hoped Alistair could tell me if the corruption was widespread, and if so, how much."

"Oh, there's plenty of corruption. I'm sure your templar friend benefited from it. They usually do."

"He didn't. He never became a templar. He was conscripted first. And glad of it, he says."

"Well. Convenient for him. Not all of us had the choice."

She doesn't know what to say to that. Even if she were good at comforting people--and she's definitely not--there's no real comfort to be had when your life has just been that horrible.

(She thinks of Shianni. Of the alienage. Of the horrors in the orphanage when she finally made it back. Of the slavers and the fact that she'll probably never know what happened to Varathorn. Stop. Not helpful. Still hurts. When does it stop hurting?)

"Anders." She waits till he looks up at her. "I can't change what happened to you no matter how much I want to. But I can promise you this: We'll find your phylactory. And when this is all over, you can go wherever you want. You will never have to go back to the Circle. Ever."

He swallows. Nods once. Seems to have trouble speaking. "Thank you, Commander."

"Kallian."

"Kallian." He rocks back and forth for a moment, then turns back to her and grins. "Did I tell you what Ser Pounce did this morning? You remember the darkspawn we found down in the basement? There was this one genlock...."

She starts laughing partway through his story, and this time she doesn't hide it.


End file.
